Tainted Desires | 18+

70 - Wedding Bells

Mirabelle Morrison

In that fleeting moment between sleep and wakefulness, where the cocoon of dreams lingered, I found solace. The gentle pull of consciousness tried to yank me from the sanctuary of slumber, but my soul resisted, yearning for the blissful ignorance that dreams provided.

The soft and cold embrace of my bed held me in its grasp, and the remnants of a dream, now fading like mist in the morning sun, whispered sweet promises of an alternate reality where heartaches were mere illusions. The drowsy haze wrapped around me like a protective cloak, shielding me as time seemed to stretch and warp, creating a sanctuary where I could linger a little longer.

Peeling my eyes opened, the soft and cold embrace of my bed released its grasp, exposing me to the harsh reality of the waking world. Yet, as the mist of slumber dissipated, the numbness set in—an inevitable reminder of the impending ache.

I couldn't escape the piercing awareness that, in the alternate reality of my dreams, Terrence wasn't preparing to marry another. The very thought of his imminent wedding sent a wave of numbness through me, as if my emotions were shutting down in self-preservation.

The clock on my table, a merciless timekeeper, displayed the cruel truth: exactly an hour snf a half until Terrence's wedding. A knot tightened in my chest, a longing so intense that it felt like an anchor pulling me into a sea of unresolved emotions. The sanctuary of sleep shattered, and the weight of reality pressed down on me.

The bed seemed to suck me in, its grasp refusing to let go as I sat up. My hand instinctively found its way to my chest, as if trying to steady the erratic rhythm of my breathing. The room felt suffocating, the air heavy with the weight of unspoken emotions. My gaze involuntarily shifted to the wedding invitation Landon had given me – another cruel reminder of the impending ceremony.

The paper, crisp and elegant, lay on the table like a silent accusation. Why did I keep it? I could have torn it into pieces, tossed it into the bin, and let the trash collectors sweep it away with the remnants of yesterday. But the hesitation lingered, as if destroying the paper might unleash a tidal wave of emotions I wasn't ready to face, and there it was, a tangible manifestation of my inner turmoil.

My fingers traced the gold trimmings on the white surface, each touching a small act of resistance against the reality it represented. The bold details of Terrence's union with Eloise Dubois stared back at me, the ink on the paper forming a connection to a future I was meant to share but had been painfully excluded from.

The sudden illumination of my phone on the table drew my attention away from the unsettling presence of the wedding invitation. I had intentionally kept it on silent, tucked away throughout the previous day, avoiding the barrage of message notifications from well-meaning friends and acquaintances. They all would have wanted to know if I was okay.

I certainly was not okay. How could I be when the man I had once loved, whose life had been so intricately entwined with mine, was about to embark on a new chapter without me? The ache in my chest was a constant companion, a reminder that time had failed to heal the wounds he left behind.

Yet, as my phone blinked with missed messages and calls, I hesitated. What could I do? Barge into the ceremony hall uninvited? It would be foolish, a performance that neither Terrence nor I needed. The idea of causing a scene, of becoming the centre of attention for all the wrong reasons, was horrid. I didn't want to embarrass him or myself any further.

I contemplated the messages – sympathetic words, well-intentioned advice, and the prying curiosity of those who wanted to understand the intricacies of my heartbreak. Each notification felt like a weight, a burden that threatened to overwhelm me. In that moment, the silence became a shield, protecting me from the outside world and the complexities of my own emotions.